It's that time of year again...

And although the weather is terrible and we're thinking about moving I have seen fit to go and spend money on plants for the garden that I really like and will therefore be sad about leaving or insist on digging up.

Every year since we moved here four years ago I have removed shrubs I've not been keen on, cut things back and weeded. Removed trees, pruned roses, threaded jasmine and clematis and weeded. Except last year, last year I quite quickly got too pregnant to weed and then it looked like I had decided to have some sort of wildflower paddock instead of a garden which was fine but instead of wildflowers they were 5ft weeds. It became apparent that having removed things I then spent a lot of time weeding three particular patches, watching the weeds grow again, weeding etc and could never decide what to plant there. It became this massive decision. What if I planted the wrong thing?

I had to admit that I know what I like but I know nothing of the textures, height differences and colours needed to make a really spectacular garden. Knowing what you like is good - I like peonies in all colours, shapes and sizes and we have a majestic tree peony that flowers at this time every year to fill me with inspiration. I love oriental poppies, lilac, camellias and of course roses. But what of the shrubs that are oh so necessary for texture and variety and for something evergreen during the long winter months.

Luckily for me I have two people close by to help me when I'm struck with indecision and who's knowledge if far greater than mine. My lovely neighbour who's garden is like a haven of colour and calm not only puts up with my constant questions but actually comes to help me in the garden sometimes (most shamingly she had to do some weeding last year when bending over for me was not an option). And my mother, who's garden is my favourite place to be, has similar taste to me, knows what I mean when I try to describe something to her that I think I'd quite like (she had to dissuade me from having cow parsley in the church when i got married 'sad little brown things by the time people arrive darling') but she's not afraid to give me a good kick up the backside when she thinks I'm dithering. And dithering I was.

Having lovingly weeded these bald patches for four years I could not decide what was worthy enough to go in them. Something needed to be done so my mother went with me to the garden center and I got a few things to get me started. Two hellebore's, a foxglove I was too dithery to buy last year, some flax, lobelia and a hebe that I didn't need but fell in love with.

I got back to London and nothing would actually go where I had originally intended but they are in and they've worked and I love it. I think often with gardening although you need to plan and think ahead you also need to go with what you love, a little at a time and build from there. Anyway everything is in and I love it... as usual the pictures don't do it justice

Clematis - planted three years ago, first flower

Peony, Hebe and Hydrangea

Hellebore, clematis, geranium, vinca

Garden Envy and the Hydrangea

I know I'm probably biased but I am totally in love, and envious, of the garden at my parents house, which at this time of year looks so beautiful that all I want to do is sit in it (which is what I've been doing thanks to a week-long dog sitting stint). I thought I would take beautiful pictures of it and you would all be amazed and then I remembered my camera's not that great and my photography is shocking so here are the pictures but they in no way do the garden justice at all... even a little bit. I hope my mother isn't cross with me for posting these...

In other breaking news the hydrangea that we discovered under a huge shrub in our garden in London in April and moved, loves it's new position and is an amazing colour.

Hydrangea on the right (incredibly sad peony on the left... still quite sad) in April

Hydrangea in July

Weeds

I'm usually in charge of weeding the garden. Joe does manly things like digging and chopping and I have to do the boring, back breaking weeding. Luckily for me morning sickness hit at prime weeding time so I mostly got out of it this year. My lovely neighbours came to help us a bit and Joe did some but I didn't keep on top of it like I usually do and the result is rather lovely. I dragged myself outside to absorb some sun yesterday and though all the weedy flowers that I should have pulled up were very pretty and the fact that nothing had been cut back due to my reduced garden nagging made it all seem very exotic for West London.

I've seen the garden from my friends roof terrace and it doesn't look all etheral and gladey from there... it looks a bit neglected and sad but it's lovely to sit in... and really now's not the time for pruning so I'll just have to let it get on with it for a bit. The only thing that is making me sad is that the fuschia which I dislike anyway (and I think it knows it) has sprawled so much that the oriental poppy didn't even get a look in this year... it was buried under pink monstrosity. Photos not very good but you get the general idea...

Retail Herb Therapy

Mint

I have always known that retail really does work for me as a form of therapy... but only to a certain spend limit - I also suffer greatly from buyers remorse so I have to get it just right. I returned to London on Sunday night for my anniversary on Monday and to try and find something to squeeze my ever-expanding self into for my father's cremation on Thursday and I'd planned to venture into Westfield and buy myself anything that I tried on that I wanted. I can never afford to do this anymore and thought I deserved it. My darling friend Florence picked me up to drive me there (had been whisked out to lunch by lovely work friend and was short on time) and we stopped off at a garden centre on the way.

I had prepared myself for Westfield, I had not mentally prepared myself for the garden centre. The garden centre had not mentally prepared itself for me. I strolled in there with the dog assuming that I would just get some more flat leaf parsley and maybe some coriander, but then the dog disappeared for a pee under the herb stand so I was stranded there face to face with a strawberry plant... it tipped me over the edge. I had an image of myself spending Tuesday morning in the sun effortlessly potting herbs that would make me look like a culinary goddess and general all round domestic wonder woman. I spent £60 on herbs. £60!! I did buy three terracotta pots and Florence's compost that the overwhelmed lady serving us forgot to put through but still!

Lovely Tuesday morning pootling in the garden turned into hardcore 2 hour slog involving more dragging the dog to the garden centre for extra pots and the tarragon I'd forgotten amidst the buying of herbs I'll never use. Now we have strawberry's, flat leaf parsley, coriander, tarragon, oregano, thyme, mint, marjoram, I managed to resist the basil (much better to buy the supermarket pots and keep them inside and replace when they die) but fell for some dill which I love but will last a week and make me even more resentful of it never being in supermarkets. I even got some lovely white and salmon pink flowers which could be petunias but I can't remember, for the hanging basket of death.

Forgotten flowers in hanging basket of death, with clean laundry being aired behind

I created garden havoc leaving it for Joe to clear up as I had to rush back to Hampshire to have lunch with my mum where I shall now stay until Monday morning... please pray for rain or I'm going to have a meltdown when I return to my pots and pots of dried sticks.

Tasteful herbs made less tasteful by husbands BBQ in the back... and using old colander for the Thyme

Needless to say I found nothing to wear in Westfield and am planning on cutting holes in the top and sides of a bin bag - I'll end up hating whatever I wear anyway won't I?

Possible Vegetables

When we moved into our flat I was determined to become some sort of greenfingered genius. It was I who had insisted on having a garden (so I could get a dog... obviously) so really I was responsible for making it look lovely. Now I wouldn't say I was bad at gardening, in fact I think I'm quite good but I'm a long way from genius. However, what I lack in knowledge I make up for in geeky enthusiasm and I have a garden journal which I try and keep as up-to-date as possible and which I imagine will one day be full to bursting with colourful inspiration and musings that will be published to great acclaim (probably after my death). These dreamy aspirations were quelled somewhat when my husband looked over my shoulder at my page entitled 'Possible Vegetables'. I have wanted a veg box for ages and have only managed to resist so far as I'm pretty convinced there is not one place in the garden that gets enough sun to actually grown any vegetables (well there is but I want to stick a bench there so I can sip tea and bask with my Mumma). My Possible Vegetables page tickled Joe and it has now become an expression in our household that can be used when one of us (usually me) is blathering on about something incomprehensible in a mumbly fashion.

Anyway, we had a mammoth garden weekend last weekend ripping out the back fence and replacing it with tasteful trellis and weaving lots of plants through (with help of neighbours and luckily we already had mature roses and Jasmine just waiting for something to hold onto) and I realised that my time for a veg box is nearing if it's ever going to happen... I really do need to start thinking about possible vegetables now. Any ideas?